by Bill Evans
PRAISE FOR
“The writing is sharp, flowing and tight. It reads like a motion picture, except Bill paints the pictures with words instead of a camera. The entire book I felt like I was sitting in a movie theater watching a mystery unfold. It was an effortless enjoyable read. So many books these days are loaded with fluff that you start to lose interest, that was not the case in this story. Bill has a natural sense for editing, which keeps the action moving forward. The story was told in many ways in the spirit of classic radio shows. You have to have an excellent ear to write like this. The story seemed so real at times I found myself asking “did this really happen at a Santa Barbara TV station” It's really hard to believe that this is story is told by a first time author. It's polished writing that obviously comes from years of life experience put to good use. This will not be the last time we hear from Bill, can't wait to see where he takes us on his next writing adventure.”
—Jeff Kelly, TV Meterologist
“Having spent the last 20+ years in the broadcast industry, I have been lucky to meet many wonderful and talented people but none more so than the amazing, Bill Evans. Everyone always asks me, what is it like inside a TV station newsroom and Evans gives you a peek behind the cameras with his Murder at Broadcast Park! A true thriller; a “who done it” that you won’t be able to put down; and simply put, a must read!”
—Blake Fulton
“Murder, sex scandals and cover-ups. It sounds like a great news day until you find out: you are the news! Murder at Broadcast Park takes you inside a small market TV station as a broadcast management team faces the worst nightmare they could ever imagine. As veteran TV station executive, Bill Evans is uniquely qualified to take you on this thrilling ride in front of and behind the TV news camera. You’ll learn what makes the bosses tick and see what happens when someone makes them sweat.”
—Dana Beards, Political Reporter, Capitol Television News Service
“A serious page-turner for serious ‘who done it’ fans. Don’t read the first page of Murder at Broadcast Park unless you plan to race through every page until the end. Vivid and memorable characters. A twisty plot that keeps you guessing. And all of it in laid back Santa Barbara where murders are not the norm. Right? In his sojourn novel Bill Evans proves himself to be a master story teller. I can’t wait for his next one. Hint. Hint.”
—David Welch, Talk Show Host, WRNR
“I was hooked on the first page and then could not put this book down. Murder at Broadcast House captured me with real characters and a great story. A perfect escape book until I realized how realistic it really was.”
—Jim Doyle, Founder, Jim Doyle & Associates
“Bill Evans possesses an incredible broadcasting and marketing mind. But until penning Murder At Broadcast Park, Bill’s equally incredible mystery writer mind was a well-kept secret. He keeps readers’ guessing with expert misdirection; cleverly weaving the storyline through one surprise after another. Add Murder At Broadcast Park to your must read book list - immediately!”
—John Hannon, President, Jim Doyle & Associates, author of the Amazon best-selling book series, Engaged Management
“A great murder mystery wrapped in a terrific primer about how local TV works! Page turning fun, with strong characters and great dialogue!”
—Patrick Evans, CBS Local 2 Chief Meteorologist, Host, Eye on the Desert
“Lights..camera..Homicide ..Broadcasting Icon Bill Evans has crafted a tantilizing tale.. a real sex, lies and videotape odyssey into a dark side of the TV news business Sordid..salacious..from beginning to end.”
—Phil Blauer, News Anchor, FOX 5, San Diego
“Bill Evans has created a fabulous look “inside a working Newsroom” while at the same time, crafting a “page turning” thriller that will have you glued to every scene. As someone who spent 54 years in Newsrooms from New York, Los Angeles, and Dallas, to Reno, Idaho Falls, and Bozeman, I LOVED IT!”
—Ted Dawson, Former Sportscaster KABC-Los Angeles
Murder At Broadcast Park
by Bill Evans
© Copyright 2017 Bill Evans
ISBN 978-1-63393-491-7
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means – electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or any other – except for brief quotations in printed reviews, without the prior written permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. The characters are both actual and fictitious. With the exception of verified historical events and persons, all incidents, descriptions, dialogue and opinions expressed are the products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.
Published by
210 60th Street
Virginia Beach, VA 23451
800-435-4811
www.koehlerbooks.com
TABLE OF CONTENTS
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
1
THE ASSIGNMENT DESK is exactly what it sounds like. It’s the heart of the newsroom, the pulsating epicenter of a local TV news station. Which is why John couldn’t quite figure out why he was running it. He was fresh out of college, practically an inexperienced kid. Not only was he deciding the local news stories of the day, but he also determined the level of importance they held. Nonetheless, here he was, controlling news coverage for a network affiliate in Santa Barbara, a job that would be the stepping stone he needed to become the reporter he wanted so badly to be. Hell, everyone knows in the business you take the job that’s offered to you, no questions asked. That’s how you break into the TV news business.
John usually was among the first to arrive. Reporters and other staffers would trickle in a bit later, waiting for assignments, checking emails, and drinking coffee. Looking up from his desk, John realized that almost everyone that made up the morning news crews was present.
Part of John’s route was to turn on the studio lights to warm the room and prepare the set for the morning newscast. The room was typically dark and sometimes drafty from high ceilings.
Just as John flipped on the lights he saw something at the anchor desk—something very odd. He moved closer.
***
Barry Burke was used to the phone ringing at all hours of the night. He expected it, even, since he was the news director of the Santa Barbara CBS affiliate. His experiences in this market and several others taught him that when someone from work calls in the middle of the night the story was usually big. But the call from John, the young assignment desk editor, was even bigger than he could have imagined.
“What?” Barry yelled into the phone when John disclosed what he had found. “What the fuck are you talking about? What do you mean you found Steve Johnson dead? Have you called 911? Did you try CPR? Talk to me son. What’s going on there?”
Barry’s voice was gruff from a lifetime of smoking. His hands shook as he plucked a Marlboro from the pack by his nightstand. He’d be smoking a lot over the next few days. Steve Johnson was a popular morning anchor and had been for a dozen years. News of his death would rock the community.
John had taken a deep breath to calm his nerves and his voice as he further explained what he discovered.
“When I got to the station a few minutes ago, I found Steve sitting at the news desk with a rope around his nec
k. His lips were blue and his eyes were shut, but his mouth was open, his tongue was hanging out, and it was puffy. I . . . I tried to take the rope off him and put him on the ground to see if there was a pulse. I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay, okay. Calm down. I want you to hang up the phone and call 911. Now. Then start calling the morning team to get on standby. I want everyone present. Don’t tell them anything. I’m on my way. I’ll be there in five.” With that, Barry hung the phone up. Like a fireman getting dressed for a four-alarm fire, Barry was up and almost out the door when the female voice caught him off guard. He had completely forgotten about the guest in his bed.
“What’s going on, Mr. Burke?” The “Mr. Burke” seemed laughable when you considered everything they’d done that evening, all night long. The news director and his new news intern were way past formalities. But of course, this wasn’t anything new for Barry. He’d gone through three wives, the last one being six years ago. He loved the perks from his position, especially the one enticing young women by promising them their “big break” into network TV.
“Go back to sleep. I’ve got to go into the station,” Barry whispered, hoping Tami wouldn’t detect the panicky undertone of his voice.
“Anything I can do? You need a reporter to fill in?” Tami was an intern on break from college pining for any on-air experience. She was perfect for Barry. She was only here for a couple of months before she had to return to USC to finish out her journalism degree. There were some things the classroom didn’t prepare her for in this line of work. It didn’t bother her; she was a natural at getting men to pay attention to her and provide her with what she wanted. It was a trade-off she was willing to make in the interest of her career. Plus, a job would be waiting when she graduated.
“Go back to sleep,” Barry repeated as he ran out the door. By the time he got to his car he was already on the phone with his friend, Detective Richard Tracy.
“Richard, this is Barry. You had better get over to the station pronto. Steve Johnson’s been found dead. I’ll meet you there.”
Barry and Tracy had become close over the years. Drinking buddies, even. Tracy was also a product of three divorces. It seemed that being a detective and being a news director had a lot of similarities.
As Barry filled in his detective friend, he asked if they could keep it somewhat quiet until they could figure out what exactly was going on. It’s not easy to be a local TV news station and be the top story at the same time.
How do we investigate and break our own story? Barry thought as he dashed to his car. From there, he called his general manager, the station’s top executive. The phone rang only once and the voice on the other end was crisp and alert, as if the person on the line had never even slept. That was the perception that Lisa wanted to portray.
She worked hard to get her GM stripes. Coming to the company as news talent, it was hard to be taken seriously. Over the years, Lisa moved from news and worked her way up through sales. Lisa picked sales because she realized that was where the real money was. Quickly, she rose to local sales manager, followed by national sales manager, and ultimately general sales manager. Her quick rise was not unusual due to performance and sharp wit, although the good looks and great personality didn’t hurt. In Barry’s eyes, she was a star. And when the GM spot opened up four years ago, it was hers for the taking.
“Good morning, Barry. A little early, isn’t it?”
“Lisa, we’ve got a problem. A big problem.”
“What’s going on?” Lisa’s voice was calm, but urgency started to creep into her tone.
“Steve Johnson is dead. The new kid on the assignment desk found him this morning when he opened up the studio,” Barry explained.
“What? What do you mean he’s dead?” The GM was now wide awake.
“Lisa, he’s dead. The police are on their way to the station right now. I don’t know anything more. I’ll see you as soon as you can get there. I’ll be there in three minutes.”
Without saying goodbye, Lisa hung up the phone and bolted to get dressed. She woke up her husband to tell him what she could, which wasn’t much, and took off for the station. News people are a funny breed. They love drama. They love mystery and thinking they have the next big story of the year. Covering murders and death for a newsroom is routine. Covering one of their own, and also inside their newsroom, would be extraordinary for everyone.
***
Barry pulled into the station parking lot as the first responders were arriving. John’s 911 call only said a body had been found in the studio. Nothing else. The morning news team and a few of the top reporters and anchors were all called to come in as soon as possible, and most were already assembled in the newsroom. Details were withheld, but the word of a death had already leaked out to staffers. No one was allowed into the studio. The station’s security guard was posted at the door by John.
Then, in a rush, the police arrived, led by Detective Tracy and Barry, the station’s news director. The two of them and John went into the studio to surveil the scene. The detective then summoned a couple of his officers to examine the scene.
“John, can we talk?” Tracy asked. He was gray-haired and about the same age as John’s boss.
“It’s okay John, Detective Tracy is a good cop. You can trust him,” Barry said.
John chuckled on the inside at the detective’s name. Richard Tracy? Really? He swirled around in his chair, stood, and shook Tracy’s hand. He wanted to ask about how cruel his parents must have been to name their son Richard Tracy, but they probably never envisioned their son becoming a detective.
“Can we use that room over there to talk?” the detective asked, pointing to a door off to the side.
“Yes, sir. Let me just get someone to sit at the desk for me,” John replied. The assignment desk was the one desk that was never left empty. That was one of the first things John learned in his short career.
John called over Carlos, a reporter, to fill in while he went off with the detective. Both men entered the edit suite, which was barely big enough for the two of them with all of its equipment. The edit suite is where reporters go to “cut” their stories for the newscast. The two men sat at the only chairs in the booth.
“John, you were the first to arrive this morning. Tell me exactly what you saw.”
“I usually start my shift around three each morning. That gives me a chance to put things together for our morning show. I walked in the back door and headed down the hall.”
“Is this typical? Meaning you do this every morning?” Tracy asked.
“Yes, it’s my routine. I do this every morning,” John said. “I’m almost always the first person here. So, I go down the hall, stop at the studio doorway, and reach in to turn on the studio lights. This gives the lights a chance to warm up the room a little. The studio is the coldest room in the station. When I hit the light switch this morning I saw someone sitting at the anchor desk. At first, I thought someone was playing a joke on me. But then I noticed something wasn’t right.”
Tracy could tell John was very nervous describing the scene to him. “What wasn’t right?” Tracy asked.
“I don’t know. But I had a feeling that something was very wrong.” John said.
“Okay, When you saw someone sitting in the anchor chair what did you do?” The detective was prompting John to remember every detail.
“At first, nothing. I just stood in the doorway trying to figure out what was going on and who was there.”
John was sweating and felt like he was slurring his words. He could feel his pulse pounding. Maybe I wouldn’t make a good investigative reporter after all, he thought. “I took a step inside the studio and that’s when I recognized him.”
“Saw what?” The detective’s voice rose an octave.
“I saw Steve. He was sitting in the anchor chair with the rope around his neck as if he hung himself.” John was trying to keep his composure.
Steve Johnson was thirty-seven years old and had b
een at the station for eleven years. He was the number one anchor/newsman in the area and very well respected by everyone. Steve had a wife and three kids. He was not confrontational and always punctual. He never missed a day, and he always delivered the news. His demise would be huge news.
“As I made out what I was seeing, I ran over to Steve. But I could tell that he was already dead,” John said.
“Your first call at that point went to?” The detective didn’t say what he already knew. He wanted the kid to tell him.
“Barry Burke. Barry is the news director and my boss. I didn’t know who else to call,” John stated.
“Nine-one-one would have been my first call,” said the detective, not hiding his irritation in the slightest.
“Maybe it’s the news person in me or just my lack of experience. I don’t really know. I called the first person I could think of, and that was Barry.” John was obviously getting upset at Tracy’s apparent jab.
“What did Mr. Burke say to you on the phone?” Detective Tracy asked.
“He told me to call 911 and then start calling news people in. The morning news team hadn’t arrived yet, and Barry wanted that team in as soon as possible. He also asked me not to tell anyone anything. He said he would be in as soon as he could get dressed and make the drive.”
Barry only lived seven minutes from the station. He arrived with the first police cars now parked with lights flashing in the station parking lot.
“Did you touch the body?” the detective asked.
“I got Steve off the chair and laid him down on the floor. I tried to get the rope off his neck, but all I could do was loosen it. That’s when I threw up next to his body.” John started shaking as he described the scene to the detective.
“Tell me what you think happened to Steve.” Detective Tracy wanted to see if this young kid had any ideas as to what happened.
“I don’t have any idea. I’m the new guy here. I’ve only been here four months,” John said, trying to explain his answer.
“You think he killed himself? You think someone murdered him? Anyone at the station hate this guy? You ever hear anyone threaten Steve Johnson?” Tracy was trying to get anything he could by firing off question after question.
